


A Night Off

by kalena



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Chuck/The Inside, Crossover Pairing, M/M, The Inside - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-21
Updated: 2009-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalena/pseuds/kalena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you haven’t seen The Inside, Adam Baldwin plays Special Agent Danny Love,  part of the FBI’s Los Angeles Violent Crimes Unit.  Danny is a tactical expert who wears stunning suits, or maybe it’s just the way he looks in them.  After cracking a big case, he's very happy to meet Chuck Bartowski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Off

**Author's Note:**

> For the wonderful [](http://theamusedone.livejournal.com/profile)[**theamusedone**](http://theamusedone.livejournal.com/) , who introduced me to Danny. *smooch*

Danny Love walked into a bar.

Danny didn't usually walk into a bar, but he wanted to celebrate, or at least have a drink, with other live people around. Paul went home to his wife, Rebecca went off to do whatever the truly messed up did with their spare time, and Mel had been up for almost two days. Besides, he couldn't count on her any more; she'd met some LAPD detective and had actual dates on occasion.

Must be nice.

Today they'd apprehended The Nightmare, who stole kids out of their beds. No ransom demands, no concern about what neighborhoods he got them from, certainly no concern for the sanctity of childhood. Both the last two kids were still alive, and Danny's tactical crew not only made a good showing but got to blow some shit up. They took the perp alive, too, for a change – he liked the thought of this one rotting in jail a lot of years before he rotted in Hell.

Webb let them go home, let the paperwork wait until tomorrow.

It was a quiet little neighborhood bar in Burbank, of all places, with enough light to read a menu by. Unfortunately, at nine on a Tuesday, the after-work crowd was gone and the kitchen closed. He'd have to drive through McDonald's on his way home, or maybe there was a pizza place nearby. Neither option sounded very celebratory.

There were four thirtysomething men shooting pool, on Tuesday night furlough from their wives and kids, and two couples on the other side of the bar separated by a few barstools. One couple looked like they escaped from the line dance at a redneck wedding. They even had cowboy hats. The other couple was office-hours normal.

A giggle of young women was in one of the booths. A curly-haired kid alone in another had a soft drink in front of him, hunched over what looked like a comic book. Jesus, they really couldn't teach kids to read any more, could they? He hoped they'd carded that one. He probably shouldn't be in here. A third booth was empty.

The men's room was cleaner than he expected.

There was a jukebox, Danny was surprised to note, an actual jukebox that played cd singles. He hadn't known jukeboxes existed any more. This one even had songs that were from before his time. He dropped a few quarters in to hear _Not Fade Away, Don't Be Cruel_ and _Jailhouse Rock_. Those seemed strangely appropriate for the occasion. He skipped _You Always Hurt The One You Love_ and _Mack The Knife_ , which just . . . weren't.

The bartender looked like she was pulling her second shift for the day, but she gave him a wan smile anyhow and set him up with a shot and a beer. It was an old habit. Even in college, he'd still gone out drinking once in a while with his dad and his dad's buddies. They were old school factory hands who had an unvarnished appreciation for the usual, and they were happy to accept Doug's kid as one of them for a couple hours.

He smiled, remembering the unfortunate aftereffects of his first night out with them. Half a dozen boilermakers were five too many. His dad was gone now, and on the rare occasion when he found himself in a bar, Danny always lifted one to the old man. The shot of vodka was smoother these days. It was the good stuff now. The beer tasted even better, and the first one disappeared fast. He didn't have to worry about a couple now that he wasn't a weedy teenager anymore. He signaled for another Grey Goose and Fat Tire chaser.

He'd just downed the second shot and taken a sip of his beer when he realized there were eyes on him. Nothing aggressive, not a hard stare, more like idle interest. It wasn't either of the couples; they were doing their own thing. Possibly one of the gigglers. He'd gotten a look or two from women in his time. Danny liked men, but at this moment, he'd be happy to take a little appreciation from anybody. He turned.

It was the kid.

Dark hair, dark eyes, six feet, 175. Much older than Danny'd first thought, older than he looked, maybe 26, 27. Not a kid. The youthful appearance didn't stop Danny from seeing his clean, handsome features. He was good-looking in spite of the bad hair. It wasn't that, though, that made him memorable. There was a . . . an aura of innocence that hung on him like college students wore oversized hoodies, and it had nothing to do with the virginal white short-sleeved oxford or the fugly tie.

That was why he looked so young.

He'd been gazing vaguely toward the bar, but when he caught sight of Danny's profile, the thick eyebrows crept up and the heavy bottom lip fell down. Then his face defied physics – it went nova while he watched. How else could you describe that smile?

Taken aback, Danny wondered who on earth a smile like that was meant for. A lover, but then why was it beaming in his direction? Was it possible the kid -- man -- knew him? No, it wasn't anybody he'd ever met on a case, not somebody he'd seen in his apartment building, run into in the coffee shop, nor even bumped into on the street.

Danny would've remembered this one.

The guy thought he was an old friend, maybe, half forgotten and imperfectly remembered. Memory was such a shady thing. He was sorry the smile wasn't for him. When he responded with only a slight nod, it simply faded away, leaving confusion and a little hurt in its wake. The room dimmed a few watts, or maybe he was just that tired. He turned back to his beer, feeling more alone than he had before he walked in.

It was an uncomfortable kind of relief when he heard footsteps coming his way, the sound not quite masked by music and chatter. They stopped and started again like he was tugging the stranger toward him on a string. He looked up. Added two inches and ten pounds to his estimate. Felt like his face was being examined at the cellular level. From this guy, it wasn't as unpleasant as he'd have thought. It was like a gentle, familiar touch on his skin.

"Hello, I, uh. Excuse me, sorry, I know this is weird, but – could you please tell me your name?"

Not as weird as a lot of things Danny heard every day. Earnestness was breaking out all over that handsome face as the guy sat down next to him.

"I could." Why the hell not? He was talking to Sunshine Boy. No real reason to tell him to fuck off. "Danny Love," he said, wondering as he stuck his hand out why he was doing it. He quit wondering when the warm clasp of a hand almost as big as his own made him feel fine in a way the alcohol hadn't. Looking down at their hands, he nearly missed the whites of the eyes, the fluttering eyelashes, the weird parody of flirtation. Almost before he could think _seizure_ it was over. "You okay, Chuck Bartowski?"

Chuck blinked. "It's nothing. But . . ."

"Not psychic." Danny nodded at Chuck's name tag. Buy More. Nerd Herd. "To what do I owe the honor?" They were still holding hands. He squeezed lightly once more and let the other palm slide away reluctantly.

"This is going to sound stupid." Looking even younger, Chuck picked up a napkin off the bar and started playing with it. "I know somebody who really looks a lot like you."

"Oh, yeah?" He was willing to play along. Given Chuck's reaction to him, it almost had to be true. "So. What about him looks like me?"

"Oh, you know." Chuck raised his head and shrugged, still looking away, his expressive mouth twisting. "Tall, built, blue eyes like that color right after the sun goes down."

He was. He _so_ was.

Danny was trying not to laugh, because it was just so . . . sweet, and unexpected, but he couldn't help that his lips quirked up a little. "You're trying to pick me up, aren't you?"

The reaction was equally unexpected. "No! No, I would never!" was little more than a croak. Chuck tried to shove back so fast he almost took the barstool over backwards with him, but Danny grabbed him by the shirt and put a stop to entropy. What kind of homophobic prick was the man he looked like?

He noticed Sunshine didn't say he didn't want to.

"Gee, that's too bad." Just casual conversation. Using both hands, Danny tidied the rumpled shirt neatly, taking his time over the well-set shoulders and firm chest. He made a good job of it, readjusting the tie, ironing out wrinkles where his fist had crushed the fabric, and drawing his thumbs along the collarbone. Straightening the placket. He didn't tuck the shirt back into the waistband. Why waste effort when he was just going to pull it out again later?

Chuck sure didn't try to stop him. He was sitting like a stone, staring at Danny with eyes big enough and deep enough to swim laps in. He had too-long eyelashes any of the gigglers would kill for, and he was looking up under them, lips parted, breath shallow, pupils dilated like he'd been toking. Danny reached down to cup a knee, left hand sliding slowly up the inside of Chuck's thigh. The tips of his fingers explored the welt of the seam, then the raised pattern of the fly and the growing bulge beneath it.

Chuck watched him do it.

Danny could almost smell the yearning that rose up to spice the cloud of innocence. It intensified when Danny's hand covered Chuck's crotch.

Nobody else had a sight line to his seduction. The other couples were across the U-shaped bar; the full booth and the pool table were behind Chuck's back.

He heard a faint whimper. A substantial cock was hardening under his hand, pushing up against his palm. God. That feeling. He pressed down, massaging the shape of it with his whole hand, firm but not rough. To make a man hard. It was so easy, such a rush, a not-so-simple pleasure when pleasure was rare in Danny's life. He was pretty sure Chuck was holding his breath. He was having a little trouble breathing himself.

With his right index and middle fingers, he tucked a piece of unruly hair behind Chuck's ear, skimming the curve -- momentarily drawing his attention away from the hand on his cock -- and finished his sentence. "Because I'd do you in a New York minute."

"Oh."

The word came soft and round out of a circle of lips that were just made for a man's cock. His cock, to be precise. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide, taking short pulls of air, Chuck looked like he was on the fast track to orgasm already.

Danny leaned in close to Chuck's vulnerable ear, speaking softly and allowing his words to touch the whorls on his breath. "Do you want to slip into something more comfortable? Like, say, the alley out back?"

"I – I – yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

He put his arm around the other man's shoulders. Chuck seemed a little wobbly.

They were headed out the back door into the small parking lot – Danny had the big-ass SUV parked out front – when Chuck said, "Before we do this, I've gotta know. Do you have any brothers?"

Back to the Evil Twin thing. Well, if it was true, he couldn't blame the guy for asking. "Nah, don't worry. I have two sisters, but fortunately for them, they both take after Mom."

One relieved sigh later, he had Chuck up against old bricks in a side alley Danny hoped to hell didn't get much use on Tuesday night. He had fond memories of the dark alleys of his formative years, but being picked out by headlights with his cock in Chuck's mouth was not on his evening's agenda. In fact, as he leaned in for a kiss, he could think of things he wanted to do with Mr. Innocent that didn't involve either of them kneeling on asphalt.

Innocence tasted really good.

"Danny?"

Hearing his name in that low, uncertain voice was a surprise. It was the first time Chuck used it. Hell, they'd known each other all of ten minutes. "Yeah?" He moved his mouth down Chuck's neck, sucking gently.

"Can I . . . can we . . ." A purr, almost. Chuck's throat vibrated against his lips, then moved convulsively. "You picked me up in a bar. It's just a hookup."

"Yeah." Kiss. Just a little one.

"This is it. Tonight, this once. I . . . I'll probably never see you again." Chuck's unexpectedly strong hands held on to his upper arms. In the dimness, with only the sidesplash from the parking lot floodlight to see by, wide eyes inspected him.

Danny shrugged. "That's the idea so far."

"Can I . . . touch you? I mean, all over. I, uh. I've never. I wish I could, you know, at least see you. And you're really, really attractive." Danny saw the light pick out Chuck's profile as he turned toward it. Away from Danny. Embarrassed, maybe, that he wanted to live the fantasy with the lookalike. "Could we go somewhere?"

Their minds were tracking together, and it seriously pissed Danny off for some reason.

He used the hand on each shoulder to press Chuck into the wall. "Are you crazy? You shouldn't be here now!" His voice was as low as he could keep it, and even at that, he thought it was probably much too loud. "Don't you know better than to go out into an alley with a stranger? And you sure as hell shouldn't drive anywhere with me! There are a lot of creeps out there, and as far as you know, I'm one of them!"

So much for what had been looking like a pretty good night. Who knew having it pointed out that he was a sleazy asshole would hit a nerve?

"It's okay. You're not as strange as all that."

The calm was what brought him up short. "What?"

"I know who you are." At Danny's jerk, he said, "I mean, I saw your gun."

Danny blinked. Carrying concealed -- what a crazy idea. "You went out into an alley with an armed stranger?" He hadn't been very careful. He didn't remember leaving his jacket open, but maybe after he went to the can. "That's good? That makes it worse, not better."

"SIG Sauer P226, .40 caliber? Standard law enforcement issue, probably federal."

Damn, he could feel Chuck staring him down.

"You're an agent, somebody's agent. You're one of the good guys. It's all over you like the Drakkar." Knew his pistol? Recognized his _cologne_? "You're not a creep, and you're not going to chop me up and throw me in a ditch." Chuck tilted his head forward and kissed him, a brief touch of lips against his parted ones. "Please? I'm not asking you to take me home, or anything. It's just for tonight. There's a motel a couple blocks down."

Well, fuck it. He'd been looking for a celebration. And here they both were, nearly in the middle of beautiful downtown Burbank.

He checked them into the Coast Anabelle, and flipped Chuck his key. "Go ahead up. I'll be right there." He told Olive's Bistro to send up a good bottle of Cabernet with a couple of medium rib eyes. He didn't know much about wine, but he liked reds, and they'd find something decent -- and very expensive. Chuck didn't seem like a fancy food guy, and Danny wanted a real meal with meat. If Chuck didn't want to eat his, Danny would.

He was perfectly happy to hear it would take forty-five minutes.

Then he bought lube and condoms in their well-appointed and well-stocked gift shop.

The room was dominated by a king-sized bed, the vast white down comforter looking pristine and puffy. The bed's overwhelming presence in the modest space would have given Danny ideas, if he didn't have them already. As it was, he didn't need any inspiration.

They'd been quiet at first, on the drive over. It wasn't a comfortable silence. Danny, not a big talker, didn't notice until Chuck started fidgeting. Chuck had asked him specifically for this. He obviously wasn't frightened by Danny's size or either one of his guns. Still, Danny had the distinct feeling the guy was unnerved and might change his mind any minute – or, hell, the way the tension was getting thicker, jump out the window.

He reached over to rub Chuck's neck, and when Chuck startled at his touch, said the first thing that popped into his head. "So, you work at the Buy More."

That did it.

He'd tapped a gusher about life in retail, so alien to Danny that he might as well have been listening from Mars. Some of them were even interesting. "Casting call? Really?" Danny didn't have much going on in his personal life. Chitchat with the deli owner down the street or bullshitting with the guys at the range was about all there was. Chuck had his own zoo.

"And then when one of them came back to threaten a lawsuit -- I had no idea what was going on, I hadn't even been there -- she slapped _me_."

The story was weird enough, but the aggrieved tone was priceless. When Danny burst out laughing, an anvil lifted that he hadn't even known was still there.

Now, standing by the window, Chuck was on the phone. "Yeah, so I'll be at Sarah's tonight. See you tomorrow, Ellie." He tucked the phone in his pocket.

"You have a girlfriend?" On any other day, that would be no skin off Danny's nose. He didn't turn down opportunities if they happened to come along. He couldn't afford to, since mostly, they didn't. But on Mr. Innocent, such a casual attitude didn't seem to fit so well.

"Ellie thinks I do." Chuck rolled his eyes. "She's my sister. I live with her and her fiance. Sarah's my friend, but Ellie's all but pushing for a double wedding. She just can't give up the idea that we're made for each other."

"What do you think?"

A snort of laughter rang out in the quiet room, but the coffee eyes were serious. "I'm beginning to think Sarah and I are less likely to get together than I ever could have imagined."

"Good. Then let's get a shower."

"Us? As in you and me?" Chuck was already on his heels.

"Unless you've got friends." He let his grin slant into a leer.

"Uh, no. Just – no, really. The two of us is fine." Chuck paused to stare around at the big bathroom with its slate tiled walk-in shower. "Two shower heads, wow. Nice place, by the way. Are you going to tell me why we came here? I mean, it's starting to make me wonder what you want from me."

The eyes and the sincerity made for a double whammy. Natural interrogator. "Besides the obvious?" Danny shrugged. "I work a lot," he admitted. "I don't have much time to myself. It's as much as I'll get of a vacation this year."

"Closer than Bermuda," Chuck's face cleared, and a smile bloomed on it. "And it's definitely a trip to my happy place."

"Come here, you." It was a relief when he gave in to the urge to ruffle the plastered-down hair into its natural curls.

Chuck reached for Danny's face, gaze focused as he palmed the curve of his jaw. Danny wondered what it would be like if that look was really for him, then decided that it was. He was the one who was here, right? The lookalike was the loser, not him. He smiled and kissed the passing fingers as they feathered his lips.

"You could use a shave."

"Hey! You have a heavier beard than I do," protested Danny. "You ever have somebody else shave you?"

"No. Are you crazy?"

"Trust me. Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Chuck slid the suit jacket off Danny's shoulders. Danny didn't watch as it flopped to the carpet behind them. "And you know what? I think you're happy to see me."

"Nah, that's the gun. This is the happy." He backed Chuck up against the marble countertop and pressed his hard-on against Chuck's hip. He hadn't gone entirely soft since their first kiss in the alley. When he shifted a little, he thought maybe Chuck hadn't, either. Surprisingly, Chuck didn't hesitate to unclip his rig and set it carefully on the counter. The bigger surprise was that he didn't care.

Nobody touched his weapons.

"There, that's better. Everything feels friendlier without bullets." Chuck punctuated his words with a kiss that was cashed in and repaid with interest.

A hand around Chuck's neck, he just couldn't get enough of that mouth, nipping and licking. With a final smacking kiss, he broke away. "Keep going. Naked is good, and sounding better all the time."

Fortunately, the solution was at hand.

"Wow." Chuck couldn't seem to stop staring. "You . . . how much do you have to work out to look like you?" He put a hand up, but then pulled it back as if fondling the display mannequin would be rude. "You should be reaching up out of a block of marble."

He couldn't believe he could still blush, but he'd never been admired with that kind of intensity. He hoped Chuck didn't notice. Instead of answering, he pulled the man over by the belt buckle and stripped him, dropping the boxers with the khakis and doing the shirt next. Danny thought for a minute he was going to put his hands over his crotch in sheer embarrassment, but he managed not to while Danny looked his fill.

Chuck's face was red now, but his erection, just as red, stood straight up.

Danny didn't hesitate to run a hand over goose-pimpled flesh. Bare-ass Chuck was a good thing. His size was equal to his build. More than equal; in other words, pretty well-hung. And pretty damned pretty in general. "I sure like what I'm seeing, and I'm all yours." He stuck his thumb out. "Hit the showers." Grabbing a disposable razor and a couple of packets of shaving gel off the counter, he said, "You first. I have very sensitive skin. I can't afford to let it get all abraded by your tough beard."

"You think my face is going to get close to those sensitive areas?"

"I'm counting on it."

Chuck could get even redder.

Danny tossed a couple towels on the shower floor for footing. He was looking for a good time, not a cracked skull. With the wall-track sun lamps twisted toward the shower, steam and spray arced with rainbows. Rivulets laced down their pale bodies. Neither of them got out much. Chuck braced himself, a hand on the wall. Danny crowded him, wet skin kissing his sleek body, rubbing gel into the softening stubble.

"How am I supposed to stand still when you're all over me?"

"That's the challenge, isn't it?" Danny swatted Chuck's butt with his fingers. It couldn't have hurt any, but he yelped obligingly anyway. Danny smiled, unable to resist smoothing his hand over the slippery slope. Chuck's breath stuttered.

It was a challenge not to bend the man over right now. But what he really wanted out of this was . . . something different. He'd done enough adrenaline- or alcohol-juiced random fucking in his time that he knew this wouldn't mean anything, and he still wanted something different anyway.

“What is?”

"To remain still in the face of a dangerous weapon."

"The razor, or your hand?" But Chuck was looking lower.

"All three."

The razor, new and sharp, slicked a path up the plane of one cheek. Danny was so close he could hear the tiny skritch of stubble giving way above the rush of the shower. He worked over the chin and under the lower lip, then moved on to the other side, careful as he rounded the jawline. Chuck's body turned with his head, bringing them into tighter contact. A visible, tangible shiver rode the length of him. Danny couldn't help an answering shiver in response.

His cock wanted to know what the fuck he thought he was doing. He told it to shut up.

"Tilt your chin up."

Chuck did, then breathed in deeply through his nose and held it. Danny could feel his own heart pounding. Slowly he removed the last traces of beard, drawing the razor up the graceful line of neck. Let his hand fill with water and rinsed the remains of the gel away. "Beautiful."

The held breath came out in a rush. Danny found himself flat against the somehow still-cold wall, Chuck plastered against him, their cocks bumping together with the roll of Chuck's hips. The kiss was more insistent this time, passionate, sloppier and chaotic. They were both gasping when Chuck pulled away.

"I can do this." Track lighting zinged off his smile. Dazzling. "You're just trying to make me crazy. I get it. Two can play at this game."

"That's what it's for --" but he lost the thought as Chuck's dark head went down, down, down until he was kneeling and rubbing his smooth cheek against the hollow of Danny's hip. Tendrils of dark, curly hair stuck to his skin.

Chuck looked up, the spray shimmering his features. He was wide-eyed and artless. It was as close to a pout as Danny'd seen on a man's face. "Now, I know you don't want me to touch that," he said. "That would spoil everything. So I'll just do what I like."

What he liked . . . he was serious about the touching part. He did a lot of it. The hands caressing his legs nearly made him moan, and that was before they discovered his ass. Holding the curve of muscle, long fingers groping and soaping, getting Danny clean in a very intimate fashion. Fondling his balls, exploring the crease, making Danny's mouth go dry at the pressure of a knuckle.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Any more of that without lube, and there will be an apology."

"Is there lube?"

He swallowed nothing when Chuck began to randomly suck kisses across his abs. "Yeah. Yeah, there is."

The answering groan was sweet revenge. "If I could still hold that razor, I'd shave you all over so I could lick you everywhere. I would totally shave your pits just so I could give you hickeys there." He used more suction. Danny could feel it in his balls. His skin was a player all by itself, reaching for the next touch, so needy, so greedy that he felt touch where it didn't happen. The small of his back became the crease of his groin became the nape of his neck.

Somehow shaving sounded . . . okay.

If the wall wasn't there to hold him up, he'd have been a messy puddle sliding drainward on the floor of the shower. The heat of the water, the sheer depth of Chuck's attention nearly overwhelmed him.

He was willing to shave his own chest just for Chuck when teeth grazed a nipple. And he didn't even _like_ that. His whole body was primed and he was ready to ignite. "Oh, God, that's –" and then Chuck bit down. Gently, but firmly. Chuck's head and shoulders came up at the resulting gasp and his hips swung forward, hard enough for Danny to feel Chuck's cock bump his own and skid against him. Chuck froze.

Danny registered slitted eyes and a silent, open mouth at the instant Chuck took a blind step back. Managed to catch him before he fell. It was so – Chuck was fucking coming, right now, from almost nothing, nothing but touching, touching Danny, spatters of come on Danny's cock as he hauled Chuck in. Tighter. Closer. Let him ride out his orgasm against Danny's belly, held safe while Danny thanked his swollen lips with kisses.

"Jesus, Jesus," and there was no going back after that. Danny shifted Chuck just enough to get a hand around his own cock. His orgasm was right there, rising right under his palm as he desperately kneaded himself, the tip of his cock dark and red in the circle of his hand.

"-- wait –"

There was no waiting.

Chuck's hand joined his, knuckles digging into Danny's tensed abs. He welcomed it; moved his hand on top. Their laced fingers gripped harder than Chuck would've, he knew it, but he needed it so very badly. Bright lights flared around him, the sun in his eyes as come spurted over their moving hands.

He'd have felt stupid about losing his knees, ending up on the floor with water pounding on them, if Chuck wasn't draped on his chest. Both of them were still trying to pull air from the mist when they heard the knock, loud enough to carry over the running water. Chuck jerked away and looked around like he could find his clothes in there with them.

"It's not your sister. They outlawed shotgun weddings last week, anyway." The corners of his mouth lifted at the confused stare. Somebody wasn't firing on all cylinders. "It's the food." He was starving.

He helped Chuck up as best he could, seeing he could've used a hand himself. Tucking him into one of the plush robes, he pulled on the other and dripped to the door. The server was the twelve-thousandth stunningly beautiful woman to be doing menial labor in and around Hollywood. Tall and willowy, her blonde hair looked real, and her eyes were an indecent shade of blue. She mumbled something and smiled, but he could've sworn she was surprised to see him.

Maybe she'd knocked several times.

"Thanks." He checked the meals, distracted by the fact that she seemed to be casing the room as she expertly drew the cork from the bottle of Cab.

Oh.

"Chuck, toss out my wallet, will you?"

"Sure."

He overtipped the server. Then she was gone, strange look, mumbling and all.

Chuck was very happy to eat his steak, which made Danny a little sorry he hadn't thought as far ahead as dessert. The meal was delicious and mostly demolished by the time conversation set in.

"So, you're an agent. Or is it a secret?" Chuck was talking through the last bite of his broccoli, but at least he wasn't spitting any.

"Not a secret agent. Just a hamster in the FBI wheel." He'd been feeling more like that lately. Sure, it was important work. They got rid of crazies and saved lives. But the psycho parade would never end, not for him, not for anybody.

"What happened today?"

Was it obvious he didn't get out much? He wouldn't have given Chuck big points for insight, but the dark gaze was shrewd. "We took down The Nightmare."

"Holy crap." Chuck slumped in his chair and swallowed the last of his wine. "I’ve been following that case on the news. You've been busy. No wonder you don't get a vacation."

"No rest for . . . I'm not sure how wicked I am, but I'm tired."

"I think you're pretty wicked." Smile.

"Thanks." He just couldn't help smiling back.

"Important work is . . . important."

He hadn't picked the man up for his verbal skills, okay?

"Everybody wants that. It's just. When it's so important you can't live a real life."

Out of the mouths of computer geeks. On the other hand, he sounded like he knew something about it. He was about to ask, but that wide-open face was suddenly closed for remodeling, and it wasn't any of his business anyway. They weren't here to poke sore spots, they were here to have fun making new ones. Chuck had some of his own or he wouldn't be here. Danny had a feeling fucking strangers wasn't a daily thing.

When he caught Chuck stifling a yawn, he said, "Let's turn in."

They cuddled up, there wasn't any other word for it, under the down comforter, Chuck with his back against Danny's chest and his head propped up by an enormous pillow. It was the best, most comforting thing Danny could remember, including his mother's raisin-and-brown-sugar oatmeal when he was sick. He had an arm around Chuck's lightly furred chest, holding hands, and one hand stroking his wacky hair. It was the Olympic snuggling finals. Danny was winning.

He fell asleep to HBO, Daniel Craig saying, "Bond. James Bond."

Morning came unspeakably early when Chuck got up to use the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, since Danny fell back asleep immediately, so he didn't know whether it was fifty seconds or twenty minutes before Chuck returned. He just knew that the empty space next to him wasn't warm enough and the lack filtered into his dreams. When Chuck came back, it was after six and the bathroom was Danny's.

As long as he wasn't in a hurry, he took the time to shave.

Much to his surprise, it wasn't snores that greeted him when he came out. Chuck was propped up on the big pillows, lazily thumbing the head of his stiff cock. With no further ado, Danny felt himself rising to the occasion. "Jesus, you're pretty."

A bit of rumpled skin showed above Chuck's grip. "Thanks. I'm liking the view from here, too." Up. Down.

"You still wanna touch my ass?"

The hand stilled. "Oh, yeah."

Danny got the lube and told him how to work it in. It felt good, but the better thing was the chorus.

"Oh, God, this is so hot. You have such a beautiful ass. You're so tight, so perfect. So hot. So – so incredible." Groan. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

"Press down with your fingers." This time, Danny's cry overrode Chuck's monologue. "Do that. Do that again."

Chuck took instructions well. Except when it came to the real deal.

"Now! Come on, you won't hurt me!"

"Okay, okay, I –"

and Danny felt the head nudge inside him. He pushed steadily back. Yes. Fucking God, yes. He gave grateful thanks to the gods of lube and luck and beautiful young men. "Fuck me, Christ, I'm not – breakable –"

And Chuck did.

They took another shower, a quick one this time, and dressed in their creased clothes. A night on the damp bathroom floor hadn't done anything any good. As far as Danny could tell, Chuck didn’t care either.

He drove where he was directed, a nice-looking townhome development on the edge of Forest Lawn Cemetery. When he pulled over, Chuck gave him a goodbye kiss. It was soft and dry and nothing like a real kiss.

"It was –" brown eyes closed for a moment, "I wish. I really like you. Thanks."

"Yeah. You're . . . great." Danny sighed. Sucks to be noble, he thought. "You know, you should talk to that guy who looks like me."

"Right. I'd rather live to see tomorrow, thanks just the same." That damned glowing smile, haloed by morning light pouring in the open side window, almost struck him blind.

Before Chuck could get out, he pulled a card from his inside pocket and scribbled on the back. "I know what I said before. But, if you ever need anything. Seriously, anything. Or if you just want . . . if it doesn't work out with him, give me a call, okay? That's my private number."

Chuck leaned in again, but it was to touch his face, a fingertip caress along his jaw. He looked wistful. "Thanks, Danny."

"Yeah." So why did it feel like Monday morning starting off a shit week?

Chuck got out. Danny just sat there with the truck in park and watched, like some high school kid making sure his girl got to her door. Maybe he should have just walked him up and given him a real kiss goodbye. There was nobody around.

He'd forced his eyes front and center when Chuck turned in the gateway and yelled, "Hey, Danny! I programmed my number into your phone. Call me if you ever need any help with that overheated laptop. I'll come blow the dust out of your case."

Danny laughed, waved, and put the truck in drive.

It really had been one of his better vacations.


End file.
